


Unravelling Farewells

by bob2ff



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 15:57:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1988970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bob2ff/pseuds/bob2ff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is never a good way to say goodbye. Set in the Replace V novel universe of Nijimura and Himuro having adventures in L.A.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unravelling Farewells

**Author's Note:**

> Written for BPS' Challenge 80 (Over the Rainbow).
> 
> Warning: Some light swearing in the dialogue.

“I’m leaving for Japan.”

“Good riddance.” The response came unthinkingly, naturally, to Nijimura, a habit borne from intrinsic belief that being friends with Himuro Tatsuya automatically meant you regularly needed to verbally bring him a peg down. The idiot was too _pretty_.

Then Nijimura registered what Himuro had actually said. “Wait, what?”

Himuro smiled. The curve in his lips graceful, delicate, and on a whole, was the kind of grin that made people want to swoon, kiss him, or punch him in the face.

“I’m leaving for Japan, Shuu.” 

Nijimura blinked at him. The words sank slowly into his consciousness, like a brick descending into not-yet-hardened cement. Nijimura felt slow, he felt stupid. Tatsuya’s words did not feel like reality.

“Why?” Nijimura’s throat felt dry, and the word came out as a croak.

Himuro looked to the distance, and right at that moment, wind blew, ruffling his bangs. Nijimura wanted to roll his eyes at the contrived dramatism of the situation. But the numbness was heavy in his chest. Nijimura wanted to shake him, and demand why he was leaving him, when he was Nijimura’s first friend in this damned place, where Nijimura still sometimes felt alien, and unwanted. But pride was steel in his veins. 

“Reasons.” Himuro’s smile was still infuriatingly gentle, and infuriatingly careful, as though Nijimura was made of glass or something. As though Nijimura would break into a million pieces at the knowledge that one of his only friends in this place, where he still felt like an outsider, was leaving. 

This time, Nijimura _did_ roll his eyes. He punched Himuro in the shoulder, hard. Himuro did not even blink. He just stared at the distance in that dramatic way he had. The idiot was tougher than he looked— Nijimura knew that all too well.

“Come on. Let’s play basketball.”

***

The concept of being an outsider in a foreign land was something Nijimura had always found way too abstract to parse. To him, it was very simple.

There was his house, where he took care of his siblings, and helped his mother. There was the hospital, where he visited his father and kept track of his progress. There was school, where Nijimura at first struggled with the language, then just straightened his back and bore it like he handled all the other responsibilities in his life. 

But, still. There would be times when a Japanese swear word would slip out, and someone near him would look at him strangely, and there was the sensation, cold and hard like steel, stabbing at Nijimura’s chest.

The sensation of ‘you do not belong here’ and ‘why are you so different.’ Sensations that Nijimura could not tamper down and shove into the corners of his heart, even though he had been forcing himself to fulfill responsibilities he sometimes had not wanted to, all his life.

(Captaining a bunch of multi-coloured hair, flashily demanding brats was one of them. Severing short the meteoric trajectory and the blazing potential of a future basketball star career was another.) 

Meeting Tatsuya was like coming out of a stuffy room into bright sunlight and fresh air. Suddenly, all the feelings of foreignness and incongruity Nijimura had been stifling, shoving impatiently away as weaknesses, dissipated, dew in a rising sun. Suddenly, Nijimura could breathe. Nijimura had not even known he had needed a friend to feel like he belonged in a place. He had not even known he had needed someone there, to begin thinking of Los Angeles as home.

Not that Nijimura would ever tell Tatsuya that. Someone that good-looking had to be somewhat full of himself, and it was instinctually ingrained in Nijimura to prick potentially bloated heads. He had years of training doing so, after all, having been basketball captain of a bunch of teenage brats who were told they were the best basketball players in the middle school league.

But now, Tatsuya was leaving. It was only now Nijimura realized he did not want to go back into that stuffy room. It was only now Nijimura realized he might actually need Himuro Tatsuya, someone he had always found sometimes irritating, other times intriguing,.

*** 

“Are you trying not to miss me, Shuu?” Himuro smiled as he practiced shot after shot. Nijimura tore his eyes away from the beautiful trajectory of his basketball, disgruntled. He thought that Tatsuya must do that on purpose, to distract his opponents. He wouldn’t put it past the sneaky bastard. 

Nijimura pointedly ignored his question. He was not going to deal with all the complexities that came with the terrain of suddenly finding Himuro Tatsuya important in one’s life. He wanted to play basketball, simple as that. 

Just as the Himuro formed another shooting stance, Nijimura moved, quick and swift, to grab the ball from him.

“Stop playing your boring basketball,” Nijimura quipped, grinning wolfishly, challengingly, at Himuro as he bounded forward, making a layup. The ball moved fluidly into the net, sure and certain. Nijimura’s basketball had a beauty of its own, even if it was wild, raw and unpredictable. 

There was a flash of _something_ in Himuro’s eyes, and he moved just as quickly, grabbing the ball as it fell through the net. He grabbed the ball from its trajectory into Nijimura’s waiting hands, and turned to face a Nijimura who had replaced the slight surprise in his face with a scowl.

“Fine. Let’s make this more interesting.” Himuro’s smile now had the sharp edges of the temper Nijimura was sometimes shocked he had. Tatsuya’s temper always came so suddenly. It was a scorching contrast to the cool facade he liked to wear. 

“Whoever scores first wins. You have to tell me why you’re avoiding the subject of me leaving, _when_ I win.” He spun the ball, levelling a cool gaze at Nijimura. 

“You mean you have to tell me why you’re moving to Japan, when _I_ win,” Nijimura retorted, reaching over to grab the ball. That brought him in close proximity to Himuro, who just calmly flicked the ball away from him.

Up close, Nijimura could see that Himuro was tense all over, even as he handled the ball as fluidly as he always did. Tatsuya was stressed, and very much so, for somewhat unknown reasons. Nijimura felt exasperation shoot through his veins. Tatsuya was not willing to lean on Nijimura. He still wanted to keep his cool facade, even when they were supposed to be friends. Even when it was supposed to be the two of them against this foreign place. 

Nijimura handled the sudden anger the way he always did. Ignoring the ball, he grabbed the front of Himuro’s shirt, pulling him close. The ball fell from Himuro’s hands as Nijimura watched his single visible eye widen. Grim satisfaction stabbed at Nijimura’s chest. He had finally broken that infuriating, cool facade. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Nijimura almost shook Himuro, gripping his shirt. He wondered why he was so angry. Shame was creeping in, dampening his anger, but Nijimura shoved the embarrassment aside, letting his frustration flare higher. “Why won’t you tell me?”

Nijimura’s hand was gripped just as roughly, as Himuro wrenched his hand away from his shirt.

“It’s none of your fucking business.” Tatsuya’s temper might be scorching hot, but his fury was chillier than ice. He gritted the words out like they disgusted him. Like Nijimura disgusted him. 

Himuro dodged the punch Nijimura gave him as fluidly and as beautifully as he moved in basketball. And Nijimura in turn felt the slam in his forearms before the pain, as he blocked Himuro’s own responding strike.

Nijimura let his arms fall to his sides, slowly, breathing heavily. Himuro had stopped as well, and was breathing just as heavily. They glared at each other, the heat within Nijimura’s rage contrasting with the Himuro’s cold wrath.

“Fine.” Nijimura turned and walked away. “Good luck in Japan.” Somehow, his well wishes were sounded more bitter than the “Good riddance” he had initially said.

***

It was a month before Nijimura saw Tatsuya. Like usual, he had bundled all the anger, the frustration, the disappointment, the bitterness, and shoved them into the corners of his heart. He took care of his siblings, and helped his mother. He visited his father, and kept track of his progress. He still stumbled over the language, then straightened his back and bore his responsibilities.

And he forced himself to get used to that stuffy room, the inability to breathe, and the new weight within his chest.

But then on a whim, he had visited the outdoor courts Tatsuya and him used to frequent, when they had played basketball without rules, without winners and without points. A realm where basketball was just played like basketball, without the burden to dominate the competition, or the impossible strive to reach genius.

And he could not help being drawn to the beautiful contours of Himuro Tatsuya’s basketball, as he practiced shot after shot.

“When do you leave?” The glance Himuro gave Nijimura, as he turned at the question, did not have a trace of surprise in it. Nijimura himself was barely shocked at how little surprise he had felt, seeing Tatsuya. They had both always known they would find each other ther. 

“Soon.” 

Nijimura just watched as Himuro took step by step towards him, slowly. The weight in his chest was slowly unravelling. He sensed that he was standing on a precipice of a cliff, and Tatsuya was right there next to him. And any next step they would take was either going to be terrifying or wildly exciting. Any next step was either going to lead them over a rainbow, or plunging to their deaths. 

“Going back to Japan is something I need to do, to grow up.” Himuro stopped right front of Nijimura. 

Nijimura nodded. He quirked a grin at Tatsuya, one lighter from the unravelling of a knot within him. “I’ll do some growing up here, too, on my own.”

Tatsuya smiled that smile, at Nijimura. The swoon/kiss/punch smile.

So Nijimura made his choice. He leaned into that brief distance between them, and closed the distance. 

Finally, he felt, he could breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something about Himuro. But since the prompt was Nijimura-centric, I thought, eh, throw him in too. So here we are.
> 
> Comments would be MUCH appreciated! =)


End file.
